So we whisked Charlie into the white car soon as he got off the bus and went, in the pouring rain, to the pediatricia, to have the staples removed. The nurse practitioner had her head lamp ready and the staple remover the hospital had given us. She felt the back of Charlie's head over and over and said, puzzled, 'I can't find any staples.'
Whereupon, Charlie found himself sitting in a chair with three adults inspecting the back of his head and giving him an extensive cranial massage. The nurse found the cut and noted it was healing very nicely. But no staples.
'That's the first time I've ever had this happen,' she said to me after Charlie (who had said a fast good-bye) and Jim had departed. I said I'd do a careful inspection of Charlie's room in case he had somehow gotten them out himself.
We went to get some groceries and Charlie helped to bag some things and carried them out, with a smile. But he was stricken at home when we looked at his food schedule and saw that Monday was a groceries day, not a burrito one.
He moped and I went into the kitchen and heated up some fish sticks (which Charlie has refused for years) and some French fries. Charlie came in and munched on apples while everything was in the oven. Without any ado, he ate small bites of fish sticks, potatoes, more fruit, got himself something to drink.
Then we went on a walk in a misty rain and across our field which resembled more a mottled, semi-frozen pond of snow, slush and dead grass amid which, Charlie found the one plastic bottle to step on (it made an extremely loud crunch). Once home, he went eagerly up to his room and settled down, cozy and content, with his iPad and blue blanket, and grinned me good night.
I'll let you know if I find the staples.